I was raised correctly.

Years and years ago, my parents were moving to a larger house in the little town of Weddington, NC, just outside of Charlotte.  The house was big and beautiful, and the perfect size for all six of us.  The movers worked until the late hours of the evening, without stopping for food or water.  Debbie, the sister who’s 2 years my junior, was walking through the house, exploring the new digs, and stumbled upon one of the workers, hunched over and slurping water straight from the master bathroom sink.  He clearly was beyond thirsty, and terrified that he was going to get in some sort of trouble, because as soon as Debbie spotted him, he quickly straightened up with a nervous look.  She told me, big sis, who went immediately to tell my dad.  And my father did something that stuck with me to this day.  He got in his car, found a gas station (which wasn’t super easy since we weren’t familiar with the area), and purchased Gatorade for every last one of the movers, and asked them to please sit down and take a break to enjoy it when he returned.  My parents, and especially my dad, is brilliant, and does well for us, but has never treated anyone, especially someone who’s worked for us, with anything less than the respect you’d give the Queen of England.

Read this: http://www.nypost.com/p/news/opinion/opedcolumnists/you_got_served_J0xciA8V4GfJ55VsILSGxL

I was so outraged, I had to send this gentleman a respectfully disagreeing email.  Enjoy.  And feel free to let him know how you feel.  Kyle.Smith@NYPost.com

Letter to Kyle
My Letter To Kyle – Click to Read!

Let’s talk about poop, baybee! Running makes you move!

I’m not talking about some chub jiggling.  I’m not talking about the booty bouncing.  I’m talking about p-o-o-p.  I don’t want to say it, so we just have to spell it.  (My mom reads this blog, so we can’t get too graphic, because she will call me and yell.

If you run any sort of distance you know what I’m talking about.  You’re in the groove, and all of a sudden, the urge hits you.  The urge to ::ahem:: evacuate the dance floor, if you will, hits you.  There can be a number of reasons for this.  1, if you’re running in the morning, it’s part of the natural cycle of waking up and getting yourself together.  2, if you eat a little breakfast before you head out, your body wants to move things along!  It’s natural.  3, if you’re completing a long run and you’re taking gels, the combination of sugars and/or caffeine can give you a kick in the gut.  And finally, 4, if you’re racing, sometimes nerves can get the best of you, and set your stuff aflame.

So what do you do when you’re running, and all of a sudden, it hits you?

-In a race?  Hit the port-a-johns. Avoid looking down, make sure your quads are strong, and HOVER. Just hover.  Douse yourself in Purell, and keep on your way.

-My least advisable option is to take an Immodium before a big race. I’m not too big a fan of this option because it freaks me out to artificially plug things up.  Unless you catch the stomach flu and are severely dehydrated before a race, I’d skip this one.

-Before a long run or a race? Hit the throne so you can clean house before you find yourself 15 miles from home with a bewildered look on your face.  Skip the super fibrous veggies just before and clean house in the days leading up to a race or a long run.  Don’t eat weird or exotic (to you) foods just before a long run.

-If you really find yourself upset often, try switching to a non-caffeinated gel.

– Trees. If you’ve ever run a long race, people will regularly leave the course on the nature-y parts.  Don’t look at what they’re doing.  You know what they’re doing.  Don’t peek.  That’s weird.  You can do it too if you find yourself in a pickle.

-Finally. Finally. Finally. Map out the bidnesses in the area that will allow you to use their facilities. Some places (understandably) won’t let you use their restrooms, presumably because they don’t want folks getting dressed/having relations/using Listerine/getting drunk and throwing up in their places.  It’s happened to them before, so they not with it. Coffee shops that you frequent in real life, the YMCA, sandwich shops, or places that you worked in high school usually will be nice about the bathroom stops.  Use them.  Thank the folks who let you use them.  And make sure you frequent and patronize these bidnesses when you’re not running as well so you build a lovely rapport with these owners.

For those of you who live in Raleigh?  I’m working on a database to store those bidness (business) owners who are willing to let us use their facilities, and who might even spare a cup of water on a good day.  Look out for the info!

Went to Food Lion today…

And you know, no story that begins this way ends well.  (And let’s keep in mind that Food Lion has launched a new brand strategy.  Lower prices, better shopping experience,  and revamped produce are supposed to be a part of this. Well…)

Let me back up.  I skipped my grocery shopping on my usual Sunday because Deb was over, and I waited til today, when I really had no food left, to do it.  I’m not a poor person, it would be a lie to say I was.  But I’m a recent graduate who’s on a fairly tight budget.  I usually do my grocery shopping at Super Target, and I save the special stuff for Harris Teeter and Whole Foods.   I say “special stuff” to mean my vegetarian supplies.  I’ve been a vegetarian for like 5 or 6 years, after I went to Elon and was not at all impressed by the quality of the meat they served in the dining halls.  No shade, Elon was totally great otherwise, but I saw some questionable meat items come through those dining halls.  Anyhoo, I drink a lot of smoothies and eat some tofu-type things that require those special trips.  At any rate, I thought I’d head down to Food Lion to save a few bucks on groceries.  Part of my thing with being a grown-up is actually packing my lunch to save some money.  (Plus it makes lunchtime at work so exciting when you know you cooked something delish that all your coworkers can be jealous of.) I went, armed with a list, and a resolve to get all the stuff I needed for another of my famous crock pot creation of the week.

First mistake?  I didn’t know where the closest Food Lion was, so I GPSed it.  The GPS took me to an unsavory part of town.  No problem, I can blend!

Food Lion

I went straight for the dairy to find my favorite brand of Greek yogurt, Fage (with the total split cup girl!). No Fage. Okay.  My eager attitude is beginning to dwindle.  But my resolve would not be tarnished!

I headed over to the soup aisle to grab some things for my crockpot.  Some coconut gel stuff in particular.  Couldn’t find it, and asked a gentleman in a uniform where to find it.

Me: Excuse me, where could I find the coconut cream canned stuff?

Food Lion Guy: ::finishes his text conversation:: Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Finally, I headed over to produce.  Saw some tumbleweeds blowing through, some floppy looking potatoes, and some sad-looking apples.  I poked down the snack aisle to see what the Oreo aisle is looking like, however?  And there were so many varieties of Oreo, one called a “mega-stuf”, that I was stunned that I’d never heard of!  But to find 5 non-rotting Russet Potatoes was a task?! Wth?!

Okay. ::deep breath:: Just because someone is poor, doesn’t mean they need to be relegated to stores that aren’t clean, with poor lighting, poor customer service, and with a wider variety of Pop-Tart and Oreo, than of apple.  The disparity between the poor and the wealthy as far as obesity, high blood pressure, hypertension, Type II Diabetes, and heart disease is concerned is staggering.  And part of the issue is that it seems like folks with a lower socio-economic status aren’t afforded choices.  Check out the produce section of a Harris Teeter, a Whole Foods, or a Trader Joes. There are choices!  And the choices are between fresh, fresher, and maybe, once in a blue moon, a little too ripe.  My point is, folks like me, folks who want to save a few bucks, still deserve a choice when it comes to what we put in our mouths.  I don’t think I will be returning to that Food Lion, however, in the next few days, I will be drafting some constructive comments to the manager, and I hope that my obnoxious letter will even raise some awareness about the fact that people in my tax bracket deserve better as it pertains to our sustenance.

Marathon training is turning me into an nutjob.

Don’t get me wrong, marathon training certainly has its perks.  It’s forcing me to eat a little healthier, go to bed earlier, and to be more regimented and disciplined, which is spilling over into my real life.  Plus, people seem to be, overall, pretty positive about the adventure I’m taking with this marathon, and have been wishing me luck both left and right.  I’ve been far better about budgeting, cleaning, and crosstraining, but its also served to take my inner nutjob and magnify it by 1000.  I’ve never run a marathon, but is this normal?  It can’t be, right?  The following are examples of how training for this marathon is turning me into a nut.

1.  I’m constantly hungry.  In my regular life, Cheri + hungry is a terrible combination.  When my blood sugar plummets, so does everyone’s fun, and all I can do is fantasize about slapping or saying really mean things to those around me.  Because of this, I’ve adopted the concept of second lunch.  I split my lunch in half, and eat second lunch around 3 or 4.  That way, my blood sugar is never too low, and no ones life is in danger when I become too hungry to be around.

2. Toward the end of my long runs, I’ve literally started talking myself through the final like tenth of a mile or so.  I’ve been “WOOING” as well.  Additionally, I actually did a victory dance after yesterday’s seventeen. I stopped when I realized it could be viewed as insane by passers-by.  As I entered my apartment, I kept dancing until I felt that it was time to stretch.

3.  I’m a little more anxious than usual.  And that’s not cool at all.  What am I anxious about?  Oh snap, time for another indentation, this one gets its own sublist.

  • My hair is looking a little jankier than usual.  Which is cool, I wear it natural.  But I’m running SO much, I haven’t had as much free time to twist it.  What if people think I look awful and unkempt?
  • I fainted in class two Saturdays ago due to a nasty cold I caught.  Now I am frightened that I will faint again (possibly during the marathon) and it is scaring the heck out of me.  Also, I don’t want to be fainting girl.  I just do not want to be known as sickly girl who faints all over the place!
  •  That my family/coworkers are sick and tired of hearing about this marathon.  Am I talking about it too much?
  • That I will lose a finger when my fingers get all Raynaudsey and I will be down a digit or two.
  • That I won’t be able to finish the marathon, and I will be thrown into the marathon paddy wagon and bring shame to my family.
  • And finally, that I’m doing my training all wrong.

Lucky for me, I work with a boatload of folks who have done this already, and my dear buddy Jerry directed me to this website which sort of eased my mind.

mcmillan running

You guys heard of this?  McMillan Running Calculator dohickey?

pace calculator

As I was thisclose to having a full-blown marathon-related meltdown at work, Jerry directed me to this site.  You put your 1/2 Marathon time in, and it calculates from that a reasonable estimate of where your pace should be, and where you should be as for as your miles times and such.  Jerry and Co. looked it over and remarked that I was right where I should be!  ::sigh:: Okay.

I recognize that my marathon-related fears are unreasonable and relatively non-issue-like.  And it certainly doesn’t help that I probably haven’t slept a full night since I graduated in 2011 (that’s another story for another day, lemme tell you what).  Taking that into consideration, I am going to do like they used to tell us in the early mornings during Residence Life training and choose my attitude.  Tomorrow, I’m going to choose to view this stuff as insane and unreasonable as it is, and not allow these ridiculous thoughts to creep in and sabatoge my marathon.  I certainly didn’t invest all this time, money, and effort, to let my fear that I haven’t packed enough for lunch, for example, ruin the great weekend we’re gonna have in Virginia Beach in a little over a month!

A few things….

This is why we run.

Rise

If you think for a second that just cause we run, we don’t like to eat, you are very sadly mistaken.  I’ve been dibblin and dabblin in running for a few years now, and the more I run, the more wicked my sweet tooth gets.  The way I prevent myself from getting as big as a house is that I just can’t keep the good stuff around the house.  However, if someone brings them to work?  You better run.

Mizuno Matt brought us some donuts from Rise (a Bakery in Durham around Southpoint), so instead of eating my lunch, I ate most of an Oreo.  Then I pretended I was only going to eat half of a chocolate by cutting it in half.  I ate the first half, got three steps away, and ate the second half.  Woops.

GlovesAnd sometimes when you run, you find out what you’re doing is just not gonna work whatsoever.  I ran early this morning, where the temps were holding around a balmy and breezy 23 degrees.  ::fans self:: Hawt!  Anyhoo, obviously I was wearing my gloves and the whole shebang, but I think I touched my face a few times because by the end of the 6-miler, my hands were soaked, and I was in some pretty serious pain.  Thankfully, I managed to loop back around to my house, where I spent the next 20 minutes in absolutely agonizing pain.  I ran out after lunch today and hastily procured a new pair of thicker, drier gloves.  That brush with frostbite was more than enough for me to learn my lesson!

Congratulations are in order!

Let’s take an itsy bitsy break from a ‘Running for Haiti’ related post, okay? We’ll resume the run chat tomorrow.

I woke up to some wonderful news this morning.

I have been friends with Chelsie Lykens since high school…we actually rode to prom in the same limo, I used to copy her French homework, etc etc.  I was in Chelsie’s wedding a few years ago in West Virginia when she married her handsome hubby, Jimmy.  Well, Chelsie and Jimmy welcomed their first daughter this morning, and I’ve been on cloud nine the whole day looking at pictures.

Chelsie, Jimmy, and baby Evie.  How darn cute, right?  And how does she continue to look so good despite the fact she had just been pushing for three hours?
Chelsie, Jimmy, and baby Evie. How darn cute, right? And how does she (Chelsie) continue to look so good despite the fact she had just been pushing for three hours?

Well, the arrival of this sweet, gorgeous baby has gotten me thinking. My friends are starting to have babies. Which means, I need to stop eating snacks appropriate for 5-year-olds (fruit snacks, crystal lite, and fake chicken fingers), and start getting serious about a few things.

I’ve been working on budgeting since November.  I’m not particularly skilled at it, but I’m working on it.  So I decided, in order to be accountable for the enormous amount of money I’ve been spending on food, that it was time to announce to the world that  from Wednesday, January 23 to the following payday (that’s two weeks), I’m not going to set foot into Whole Foods, which is so conveniently placed next to my job.  But I can’t go in there, because it’s a total suck on my bank account.

I love Whole Foods.  They are incredibly reasonably priced for the quality of food that they have (their 365 house brand is what’s up).  It smells nice in there, and they make it easy to live as a vegetarian, vegan, or a person suffering with food intolerances. (I’m a vegetarian, btws).  But I have been spending all my hard earned monies on:

Complete cookie (2)Lemon Poppyseed Complete Cookies (cookies with protein!)

and…

KombuchaCosmic Cranberry Kombucha!  Makes my belly so happy!  But it ain’t cheap.

So my plan is to make do without a few of these things for like half a month while I re-learn how to spend money on food.  I’ll let you know how it goes, and it’ll give us a little something to chat about when I wrap up ‘Running for Haiti’ at the end of January.

 

I made a horrifying discovery at Food Lion the other day…

I was in the breakfast aisle, when I happened upon a newer flavor of Pop-Tart.  Frosted Confetti Cupcake.

Confetti Tart

 

I’m repulsed because generally, I eat pretty healthily, and I cannot wrap my mind around what would possess Kellogg’s to do something like this to our kids.  Like our kids don’t have enough problems without being given a Confetti Cupcake flavored Pop-Tart.  Sorry about global warming, wars, our national debit, and gun violence.   Have this Pop-Tart, and allow me to further ruin your life!

On the other hand, runners really love to eat and drink.  Runners love beer, bread, and dessert.  Anything carby is like runner’s ambrosia.  So maybe Kellogg’s is onto something genius with this?

So obviously, after my stomach stopped roiling, (like three days later), I got to thinking I might buy a box, since they were on sale.  I secured a good home for the box after I ate the one, and went for it.  So I look at the nutrition facts.  Bad deal.  There are 190 Calories in one.  Curiously, two come in a package, so god only knows why they package it that way.  Pull it out.  It looks sorta like a confetti cupcake, so its gotta be moist and good right?  Wrong.

I was dead. Wrong. I bite into the pastry (if it’s not blasphemy to call it that), and it tasted like they filled it with the frosting that comes out of the can.  After it’s sat in your fridge for a few days months.  I kept going.  Still dry.  Still tasted like fake cake.  I just consumed 190 calories of something that tasted like it was made in a test tube, Kellogg’s sorry conceptualization of what cake is thought to taste like.

Please note the approximate length of the ingredients list...I'm frightened for what I've consumed...
Please note the approximate length of the ingredients list…I’m frightened for what I’ve consumed…

Generally, my nutrition posts on here will consist of posts about gels, Gu’s, waters, electrolytes, and all of that, but I just couldn’t  resist!

So have a little laugh at my expense, and don’t you friggin dare buy one of these idiotic excuses for a breakfast pastry.